Today is Monday for a lot of people here in the States, so I held my More Cowbell Monday laugh until y’all could get back on your computers and appreciate it.

Set your beverage down, and enjoy…I can’t wait to hear your stories in the comments.

My favorite Facebook update while I was down with shingles was from the Bag Whore.

[Many of you remember my brother…he’s affectionately referred to, here at More Cowbell, as The Bag Whore. (You’ll see why if you click that link above.)]

I logged on to see THIS update from his romantic getaway with his wife:

Okay, the massage…

It wasn’t the sea salt scrub that bothered me. Nor was it the green baby poo they smeared all over me. Even the white sludge that followed wasn’t so bad. However the little blue Pull Up paper thong I had to wear the whole time kinda crossed the line.

Not again. Ever.

I waited impatiently for him to get home so I could get his story and share it with all of you.

When I finally got him on the phone I prompted, “So tell me about this traumatic massage…” Below is his rant. I typed like a mad woman to get it all down for you.

The Sad Tale of the Blue Papier-Mache Thong

Him: *rude noise* Sis, have you ever seen a toddler’s Pull-up? Well, they put a version of one on me for this freaking massage. There were a$$ hairs and butt cheeks everywhere.

Me: OK…Ew. Usually they just keep you naked with a sheet over you.

Him: Nope. Think of the material for the blue scrub hats you wore when you gave birth. Or a Pull-up without the Dora design. Now picture that on a 6’7″ man.

Me: I didn’t need that image in my head.

Him: Yeah…me neither. Plus they wrap you in cellophane like a freaking burrito. This was NOT an exercise in relaxation. See, I am a heat-giving machine. My wife will be all wrapped up in 8 blankets and I’ll barely be covered with a sheet.

Me: They actually wrapped you in cellophane? Like Saran Wrap?

Him: Well, first they rub salt all over you to exfoliate. It’s like having a brillo pad everywhere. FYI: That isn’t fun for a guy. Then they slap on a seaweed puree with some snot mixed in that is freezing. THEN they wrap you in plastic.

Now I know how my dry cleaning feels.

Me: *laughing*

Him: After 15 minutes, I told the gal: “You’re going to have to unwrap me because I’m not enjoying this. I’m burning up.” She unwrapped my nether regions so at least those could breathe.

Me: *speechless over ‘nether regions’*

Him: Then they rub white snot that smells like coconut all over you. And the whole time they rub and wash all that crap off, you’ve got the Pull-up on you so your paper gets all wet. You end up with a wet papier-mache thong shellacked in your crevices.

Me:What kind of massage is this?!

Him: It’s called the ‘Aztec Massage.’ It was a couple’s massage. My wife wanted to do it and I paid $350 bucks for this torture.

Me: That’s kind of pricy. Did she like it?

Him: She FELL ASLEEP. I have no idea how she did that with these girls taking rolling pins with points and ridges, and shoving them into various tender parts of our bodies, but she did.

Me: Were you still in the Saran Wrap?

Him: They use the rolling pins over the burrito wrap thingie.

Me: That plastic wrap would be aces for Christmas baking. Nothing would ever go stale.

Him: *snort* Plus, they rub these blue cloths everywhere — and I do mean everywhere — and they have these water noise thingies they turn over every 10 minutes or so.

They put these wet “relaxation discs” on your eyes too so you can’t see shit. So there I am, blind. With snot all over me. I had to mark the time by how often they turned over the water noise thing.

So, the massage lady says to me, “You are very tense.”
And I said, “I’m not comfortable!”

Me: Was there any part of it you liked?

Him: The only part I liked was the Hydrotherapy. You get to wash all the salt and slime out of your cracks and crevices.

Me: Explain to me why you spent $350 on this?

Him: Because my wife wanted to. I did it for love. I sure didn’t do it for pleasure.

45 Responses to The Bag Whore Goes Commando! (The Sad Tale of The Blue Papier-Mache Thong)

Glad I put down my coffee! A little early in the day – that image will be burned on my mind all day. Holy crap. Could you see Alpha Dog doing this? There’s not enough love on the planet, much less our relationship.

I’m sure his hydrotherapy was not of the “coffee where no coffee has freshly gone before” variety, or he would have added a whole ‘nother element to his sad tale.

When I married my husband, I also married a 17 YO stepson with a slew of friends who couldn’t think past the end of their “nether regions.” When one of them went for his first massage, he took the small loin cloth and disrobed as instructed. Then — being the dumb cluck hormonal mess that he was, his oxygen-deprived brain didn’t properly connect with the directives.

When the masseuse re-entered the room she found him with the cloth under his butt and his flip-side flagpole waving in the aroma-therapeutic breeze.

Yep! That plentiful posse knew who to consult when they were in trouble. I always knew one of them was in trouble when I picked up the phone and my step-sons first words were, “Glo? Dad isn’t around is he?”

Auto-correct: My husband’s Egyptian and even though we call him Bill his real name is Nabil. Auto-correct thinks it should be Nail. His sister’s name is Mona, but auto-correct must know her, because it turns that into Moan. Worst auto-correct moment? When it changed the name of Darryl into Darkly. Not so bad except that it did it in an email to a gal pal who was having some rough spots in a multi-racial relationship. He was the one with the most skin pigment and the sentence that was supposed to be comforting and encouraging turned into a racist slur.

I sometimes use Siri to dictate my responses to blogs, and omigosh…do I have a Southern accent? Because Siri seems to think when I say “win” I mean “when.” I could give dozens of other examples, but it occurs to me, I might as well go back to hunting and pecking. It takes just as long to correct Siri as it would to type out my responses in the first place.😉 In fact, I’m going to show you in the entry below!

Oh my gosh! Your poor brother! I guess he could take comfort (or not) from the realization that had he enjoyed it, that might have caused him problems, too. According to Jeff Foxworthy, during his first (and last) massage, when it was time to get face up, well, he’d enjoyed the massage a little too much. LOL! It must be tough to be a guy sometimes! But he did for love, which is very awesome. Nice when its for love AND you get a great story out of something. (grin)

Ohmigawd! Too freaking hilarious! Thanks for the warning ~ I put my tea down just in time. Your brother is awesome. What he did for love, that just takes some kind of balls. Well hidden under a papier mache thong balls, but they’re there nonetheless. He totally rocks. Thanks for the shout out to my torture post. It’s a good thing your brother didn’t have the voodoo lady as well. That would’ve sent him over the bend. What the heck is up with the saran wrap, though? Now I totally want to try it. Is that wrong?

Ahhhh so romantic!! Hubby and I often go for couples massages but nothing like that!! Although the free, part of the wedding package one in the Dominican Republic was another story…they take their therapeutic massage seriously….we came away needing a massage from our massage…we were sore for three days. Wowzers!!! We stick with our mild Canadian massages….couple of pussies. LOL!!

Countless parts of this post had me laughing out loud (sometimes I get all Archie Bunker and REFUSE to type LOL). But, the part that had me most pensive was:

Him: After 15 minutes, I told the gal: “You’re going to have to unwrap me because I’m not enjoying this. I’m burning up.” She unwrapped my nether regions so at least those could breathe.

She unwrapped the nethers… How funny is that!?! I’m part Scot, so I can understand the sentiment behind wanting to keep the nethers free, but she could have at least given him a little more “wiggle” room.

Just curious…. How sure is your bro that his wife was undergoing the same stuff? Who is to say that she wasn’t standing off at the side laughing her ass off at the sight of his papier-mache sporting nethers riding free while the rest of him was bound up?